Over ten years after their debut seven-inch emerged blinking to a shower of hosannas, Tindersticks have refused to answer the door to Mr Compromise. The major label deal came; the major label deal went. Ditto Britpop. Something referred to as 'the new acoustic movement' prompted some discussion about the return of 'proper songs.' None of which seemed to impact much upon the world of Tindersticks – where the propriety (or otherwise) of songs has never been an issue. Along the way, they slimmed down and grew up. On 2001’s, Can Our Love…, the ghost of Curtis Mayfield seemed to stalk the group’s long dark soul of the night. Suddenly, Stuart Staples’ forlorn streetlight serenades had acquired something dangerously close to a groove.

This looser approach is something that Tindersticks were eager to preserve on their sixth album, Waiting For The Moon. Staples speaks of trying to catch the band off-guard at moments “where they didn’t think they were making an album.” Songs were often nailed at the second or third attempt – combining an unmistakable spontaneity with the subtle cinematic drama of Hinchcliffe’s arrangements. Superficial similarities abound with 1997’s Curtains – in particular, its orchestral sense of urgency – but there’s a sense of purpose and clarity about Waiting For The Moon, which suggests that finally, Tindersticks are learning how to make the records to which they’ve always aspired.